Holy Name Monastery
Founded 1889
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~Article from Pax Christi, Florida which is a regional section of Pax Christi USA
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One of the keys to understanding the meaning of this Gospel can be found in the description of the judge as corrupt and unjust. Jesus is saying that if even an unjust judge responds to the persistence of the widow, how much more will God heed our prayers. Didn’t Jesus say: “Ask and you shall receive?” Jesus is telling us that God wants us to be like the persistent widow, persisting in our relationship with God, confident that God hears and answers prayers. Jesus also understands how easy it is to lose heart. Maybe that’s why Jesus asks: “Will such faith be found when the Son of Man returns?”
The Gospel implies “yes” but it may be in unexpected places, not among the ones certain of their own righteousness, but among the “widows” among us – the outsiders, the unlovely, the unclean, the ones certain of their sinfulness.
If we could read the Greek version of this parable, we’d get a glimpse of Jesus sense of humor. In the Greek Scriptures the judge gives in to the widow because if he doesn’t he fears she may give him a black eye. Jesus uses this metaphor from boxing to make his point about the need to continue in prayer. Be as persistent as a boxer in the ring.
We say, but do we really believe, God always answers our prayers. We just don’t know WHEN because God takes the long view. Sometimes we have to wait for answers until we’re, as they say: on the other side of the grass.”
Now, I think it’s a safe bet that I don’t have to explain “stubbornness.” Some of us had it sprinkled on us in our 
cradles! We can prettify it, call it by another name, whatever we want: high principles, perseverance, tenacity, determined or we can call it what it is: just plain pig-headedness.” Some of us seem to be naturally endowed with the “great gift of stubbornness.” We ask God’s help to learn how to be stubborn for the right causes. In that case, we may talk about a “holy stubbornness.” That happens when we start not only to say our prayers, but when we start to live our prayers. In other words, we put our actions where our words are … we put flesh on our Corporate Commitment.
“Will the Son of man find faith when he returns?” That depends. Can prayer move our own arms? Are we willing to put flesh on our words? God always has relied on his children–people like you and me–to usher in His Kingdom. Are our prayers effective? The answer lies squarely with each of us: “it depends on how effective we help make them.”
And, just suppose as Fr. Ed (Lamp) suggests (based on an idea he gleaned from S. Melannie Svoboda) that the characteristics of the widow and the judge are reversed:
What happens, if we say that we are the judge and God is the widow? We, like the judge in the parable, are basically unjust. And, sometimes we have no fear of God; that is, we do not allow God to scare us into being good. Similarly, like the judge we persist in refusing to listen to the cries of the poor all around us.
So, suppose God is the persistent widow who will not go away. God keeps badgering us, refusing to accept as final our “no” to love. God will persist until we render a just judgement, that is, until we let the goodness out, until we learn to love. In Genesis we are told we are made in the image and likeness of God. (Fr. Ed suggests) Perhaps our prayer this week could be: “Dear God, Persevering One, make us more like you!”
(See prayer down below)
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This Gospel tells us that Jesus is hampered from performing miracles in Nazareth because of the people’s lack of faith. We see a very human side of Jesus. He seems to be taken by surprise. His family seems to be sending the message every child dreads to hear, especially from mom or dad: “Stop embarrassing us. Act your age.”
Can you recall a time when a parent, teacher, novice mistress or maybe a friend seemed surprised by your words or an action that showed a level of maturity beyond their expectations? In family life, and hopefully in our community, we rightfully expect a safe place to discover who we are and who God is calling us to be.
Does a time come to mind when you were surprised by someone you thought you knew saying something really wise, insightful or maybe just plain “off the wall” but so smart? Why were you surprised? Or was it not surprise, but impressive and pleasant to see a different aspect of that person. It happens in my role frequently – A Sisters’ sharing gives me a peak into her depth of lectio, her expression of a deep spirituality puts me to shame or at the very least reminds me what a treasure we have in community.
Now it is interesting to note, that where the evangelist uses the word “offense” the Greek origin is “stumbling block.” And that it seems to me is closer to what is happening here. Jesus’ audience were scratching their heads and tripping over themselves trying to understand how this young whippersnapper from Nazareth could be so wise. Up to this point, like most good Jews, he had kept a low profile. Jesus’ family and friends were scared for him. There was an emotional stumbling block interfering with them openly being a Jesus follower.
What stumbling block sometimes prevents you from speaking up in defense of Jesus, of our faith or our Benedictine values?
I was drawn back to the first reading from Ezekiel. I wanted to say to Jesus when he seemed stymied by the crowd’s reaction to his teaching – Remember what Ezekiel said: The spirit entered into me and set me on my feet, and I heard the one who was speaking say to me: Son of man, I am sending you to the Israelites… whether they resist or rebel or are obstinate of heart, it is you I am sending. Say to them, whether you heed or resist, it is I whom God has sent – I am a prophet among you.”
The crowds used all the time-honored dismissive ways … we know them, we have been targets – or sadly we may have employed them: belittling remarks, the covert laugh, the rolled eyes, the turning away of attention, or making light of the other’s knowledge – the attitude that says: who does she think she is?
Ultimately, what didn’t happen in Nazareth: no healings, no mighty deeds, is not much of a surprise. After all a miracle is not just an event but it is an interpreted event. If Jesus is not reputed to be capable of healing, any healing that does take place won’t be attributed to him. So the crowd’s attitude is “there’s nothing here to see. Let’s just move along, move along… and find some other excitement.”
Such is true with us, with our community. Our guests don’t experience peace and harmony, generosity of spirit and light-heartedness, beauty in nature and liturgy if they don’t find it in each of us. They come expecting a miracle – the miracle happens in our interactions – first with each other, then between us and our guests.
Remember Jesus question to this disciples: Who do people say I am? And, you: who do you say I am?” Who do you say these Benedictine Sisters of Florida are?
If I remembered well the music, I’d sing to you the tune from the rock opera popular in the 1970’s –
“Jesus Christ, Superstar – Do you think you’re what they say you are?”
Benedictine Sisters of Florida, do you think you’re what they say you are?
Are you really who you say you are?
Are you really who they say you are?
This Gospel reports two stories of healing. One story tells us about a father’s great love for his dying daughter. The other story, the one I have chosen to focus on, tells us about a desperate woman who risks much in a courageous act of faith to seek healing from Jesus. This woman has lost everything to find a cure to a condition that has separated her from the community. We women can commiserate with her. We may have memories of “those days” or know someone who understood why some referred to a woman’s “gift of God” as “the curse of Eve.”
This woman’s is a true story, not one of Jesus parables. This woman had suffered from bleeding for 12 long years. Whether this hemorrhaging was constant or irregular, it caused the woman much suffering, and with the loss of blood much weakness as well. She also suffered a great deal at the hands of the many doctors she consulted for a cure. Not only didn’t she get better, she actually got worse. In addition, she didn’t have good health insurance so now she was broke and wasn’t eligible for food stamps.
We need to realize, too, that this woman would have been quite isolated: lonely, shunned and shamefully treated because she was considered ceremonially unclean under the Law of Moses. She could never perform the rituals that would have reconnected her with society.
What a suffering! Broke. Required to live as unclean, in isolation and shame. She had very little hope for a better future.
I have to tell you, earlier in the week I had gotten this far in putting thoughts on paper when God literally dropped a reflection on this Scriptural episode into my lap … the book I’m reading here in chapel by Basil Pennington, fell open to a chapter entitled “Who Touched Me.” Here is an adapted summary of Pennington’s reflection.
Jesus was setting out for the house of Jariaus where he had promised to see the desperate man’s daughter. He and his apostles are being knocked about from every side. Suddenly Jesus stops and asks: “Who touched me?”
Peter in his usual obtuse way responds: How can you ask, who touched me? Everyone is touching us. Everybody is pushing us about.
On our part (says Pennington) The increase of media and people contact – the over-scheduled day, the relentless demands on our time – almost necessarily means a decrease in spiritual contact, unless all our contact is grounded in contemplation and the operation of the gifts of the Spirit that are set free to work in our lives by contemplative prayer.
We do not need to go out and about to find meaning. It is all here within. And when we go out, we find the same Reality. Whether within or without, it fills us with presence, joy, and completeness. Grounded in prayer, we can truly touch the lives of others and be touched by them. (Basil Pennington)
So, it seems to me, the final fact in the woman’s story – remember it’s a true story – is Jesus’ affirmation of her faith and daring. Jesus knew she had touched him and his power had healed her. The woman knew what had happened. The power of the miracle dropped her to her knees. The response of Jesus is so encouraging. He calls her “daughter” affirming that she is very precious to him. He reminds her: your faith has healed you.” Many others that day touched Jesus, jostled him, shoved him but only this one woman touched Jesus with faith. Finally Jesus tells her: Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.”
What incident in your life brought you to your knees knowing that you were healed … and more than that, assured that you are loved?
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